


Captive

by Kialish



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Abuse, Anal, BlackIce, Codependency, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Oral, I almost feel bad writing this, Im a terrible human being, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Orgasm Denial, Physical Abuse, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, blowjob, bruise kink, desensitization, light bondange, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kialish/pseuds/Kialish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch catches Jack off guard, six years after the events of the movie, and makes him his prisoner. But he has plans for the Guardian of Fun, and they are far from pleasant...</p><p>EDIT: THIS FIC IS UNFINISHED AND MAY NOT BE FINISHED FOR A LONG TIME! I apologize deeply for the inconvenience</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO this was one of those things that's scrabbling at my mind to get out so I've been writing restlessly :( I kinda feel bad but at the same time I use these two for my most ugly of kinks.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SUPPORT THESE KINDS OF ACTS IN REAL LIFE. EVER. AT ALL. THIS IS JUST FICTIONAL.

Jack blinked wearily, the world around him still and dark. Where was he? Groaning, he lifted his head, finding himself in some sort of dungeon. He went to rub his face, finding both hands chained to the wall and held above his head. His arms ached as he shook his shackles, panic beginning to brew within. What had happened? Where was his staff? Where were... his clothes? Jack looked down, finding himself stark naked, eyes wildly looking around. It was too dark, only a bit of dim grey light filtering in from some slitted window far above. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what he had been doing before... this...

He had... He had been heading over to Russia after an impromptu snow shower over the British isles and was planning on visiting North before Christmas got into heavy swing... He had been over Germany when he spotted nightmares in the streets, a lot of them... And had went to stop them. But they vanished, and when he went down an entire herd had descended on him.

Jack shivered, blinking at the memory. He had been in a vortex of them, the darkness swirling and sucking the life right out of him... But that meant. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes.

“Pitch!” He shouted out. The yell bounced off the walls of the cell and out through the cavern. The stillness somehow got... Stiller, before the shadows writhed. It was Pitch’s glowing yellow eyes he spotted first as the rest of him followed, the Nightmare King chuckling darkly. He had Jacks staff, the frost sprite sneering.

“Ah, so sleeping beauty finally wakes up,” Pitch purred as he strode forward. His stature was tall and confident, as though the events half a dozen years earlier had never happened. Jack felt a shudder of fear suddenly, realizing that right now he was facing his, and every other Guardians, enemy, powerless and naked.

“Shut up and let me go,” He shouted, fists balling against the chains. Pitch twirled the staff, a coy grin on his face.

“I hardly think you're in the position to start shouting demands,” He chided, stopping and standing a few feet away from Jack. The Guardian tried to keep his composure.

“Let me go before they come and get me,” Jack repeated with an added threat. Pitch laughed loudly, not a chuckle but a full blown laugh that sent shivers down Jacks spine.

“The other Guardians don't even know where you are!” He replied. “Jack Frost, expected to let them know where he is at all times? Especially when they're so busy...” Jack felt himself falter, knowing Pitch could feel the very essence of it. It was true. He never had a set pattern of flight, and the others never bothered to keep tabs on him and his erratic paths. They had no idea he had even gone missing so suddenly. Weather could keep itself going without him...

“Oh, look at that, touched a soft spot, hmm?” Pitch asked snidely. “Good. Be afraid. You're my prisoner now, and they'll never come looking for you...”

Jack squeezed his eyes against the words, knowing they were taunts to pull out his fears. He knew his tricks... But knowing them didn't stop them from working.

“What do you want from me?” Jack asked, eyes fluttering open once more. Pitchs eyes shone maliciously.

“What I have right now. The brat responsible for my plan utterly failing, in my grasp for as long as I want. Or until I kill him.” He laughed at Jacks wide eyes. “I hardly have to try and already you're so scared.”

He tilted his head, pointed teeth bared in a dark grin, Jack swallowing. He had to get out, there had to be a way.

“But first, just in case you some how get out of those chains...” Pitch repeated what he had done in Antarctica, snapping Jacks staff. The Guardian cried out, feeling the pain physically in his chest as shards of magic dissipated in the air. “And this time, I won't leave them anywhere where you can put it back together.”

Jack hung limply in the shackles, fingers twitching as the residue of pain pulsed in his chest. With each beat of his heart, the pain shot through every vein of his body. It was almost as bad as the first time, although the first time he had been thrown into a wall of ice and fallen into a crevice... He looked up, trying to regain his footing to see Pitch just before a piece of his staff was used to smack him in the face.

He yelped in pain, feeling a bruise forming across his left cheek. Tasting blood, he looked up at Pitch, only to be hit again across the other cheek. The guardian spat out a wad of blood and saliva. He felt wood at his chin, lifting his head up to Pitch again. The Nightmare king smiled coldly as Jack looked into his bright yellow eyes.

“Why-” Pitch kneed him in the stomach, Jack gasping as his breath was knocked out of him. As Jack coughed for air, Pitch grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up.

“Because I can. And because I want you to suffer,” Pitch replied, grabbing Jacks face in one hand and jerking it to look at him, the other hand holding his staff in pieces behind his back. He tilted his head again. “I always wondered what color you bled...”

Jack inhaled and spat in Pitchs face, the nightmare kings face twisting from smile to wicked frown. He dropped the staff pieces, wrapping thin fingers around Jacks throat and squeezing. Jacks eyesore widened as he choked, gasping for air as Pitch was crushing his trachea. He felt his world being squeezed out, eyes rolling in the back of head--

And then he could breath, wind rushing back to his lungs too fast. He coughed, hanging in the chains as he tried to catch his breath. Eyes flicked up to Pitch, who had turned to pick up the staff pieces, shaking. He hurt, his face was sore, his very being ached at the breaking of his staff. He was alone.

“I'll leave you be for now,” Pitch mused, flexing his hand. “Trust me when I say it'll get worse.”

He walked into a wall, dissipating into an inky black shadow and leaving. Alone now, Jack felt hot tears leak down his face, biting his lip to stop himself from sobbing. Alone. Just like before... Just like, always, wasn't it? He'd been accepted as a Guardian but things hardly had changed... Sure North and Tooth let him into their homes from time to time... but aside from that, he was still just Jack Frost, living with a thin line of belief at his grip.

'They never really cared about you,' A voice hissed, shadows slowly rising to entrench the room in darkness. Small, vaguely humanoid forms began to form, eyes white and wide. Fearlings. Their mouths were down-turned into permanent, sorrowful frowns, yet they still spoke in harsh whispers. 'Jack Frost the nuisance, Jack Frost the trouble maker. No one cares for Jack Frost. Jack Frost is all alone.'

“Shut up!” He shouted, shaking under the weight of each word. “I'm not alone. I HAVE FRIENDS.”

The fearlings giggled, the only sound of them that showed that they were once children. In a time long ago... The blackness absorbed his entire field of sight, fearlings writhing and giggling.

'No friends, Jack Frost. Thats why you're here, that's why Master has you,' they sniggered, Jack pursing his lips together. The tension hurt his face, disrupting the bruises. 'Go to sleep, Jack Frost. Go to sleep. Pleasant nightmares await you...'

Jacks eyes widened as amidst the swirling shadows, a horse made of black sand reared on his hind legs with a whiny. It charged at him, pulling him into a deep and unwilling slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

He was plagued with nightmares, replaying events in time, in his past. His drowning, his resurrection, his loneliness, being ignored, the guardians, Pitch, offering him salvation, to help him destroy the Guardians. 'I gave you a chance, Jack,' The dream Pitch had hissed. 'And you threw it all away. And now you get to pay.'

Jack gasped, snapping back into the waking world, panting. His arms ached as he pulled himself upright, wishing for the love of MiM that the chains would be loosened so he could just sit down... but the point was for him to suffer. Even just acknowledging the fact made him feel like throwing up. All Pitch wanted was for him to hurt. Probably even kill him.

He shook his head, ignoring the quaking that was starting inside of him. Sleeping had felt terrible. He wasn't rested at all, but being dragged into nightmares was... hardly sleeping anyway. Never more badly had he craved the Sandmans sand. It wasn't although he needed sleep; most immortals didn't, but it helped them be perky and in a good mood none the less... how long was he out, anyway? Looking around, nothing gave indication of time passing. The cell was still dark, with the same light filtering in from high above... He could have been out for 2 minutes or 2 days.

Jacks head shot up when Pitch stepped out of the shadows, hands held behind his back and back as straight as ever. The immortal boy wondered how he had managed to recover so spectacularly after being beaten so badly... To say he wasn't deserving of his fate would be false, but it was still a harsh judgment.

He strode forward with an ease about him, save the tension at which he held his shoulders. Jack tried not to show how afraid he really was, already tired of even attempting to fight back. Pitch waved a hand, the shackles that bound him dissipating into shadow before reforming to clasp Jacks arms behind his back. Jack groaned, arms sore at being pulled and now sore and the sudden movement. Everything ached... He let his hand head, refusing to look Pitch in the eyes, to find a riding crop being pressed to his chin and pulling his head up.

Pitch smirked. Jack glared. The smirk turned into a frown and he whipped Jack in the cheek with the riding crop, a loud snap at its contact with skin. Jack gasped, feeling the tingling pain erupt, adding damage to the already growing bruise.

“I hate that look in your eye,” Pitch growled, lifting Jacks face again. The boys eyes were looking off to the right, bright bruise forming beneath the previous one. “Ah, already learning.” The Nightmare king commented.

Without warning, Pitch lashed out, kicking Jack in the ribs and forcing him onto the ground. The frost spirit yelped in pain, falling face first onto the grey cobblestone and hearing a snap. His nose pulsed, bright red liquid dripping onto the ground from his nostrils. Pitch slammed his heel into Jacks side, rolling the boy over to his back forcefully and appreciating his work. Jack coughed, feeling blood trickle down his throat as he tried to breath. Fearful blue eyes looked into cold golden ones, Pitch regarding him as though he was regarding a piece of art.

“Blood and bruises truly do suit you, Frost,” He hummed, pressing a foot on his abdomen. He squirmed at the pressure, feeling blood trickle down his face. The Guardian wanted to cry, the new pain thrumming fiercely just after the old pain had turned to a dull ache.

Pitch lifted his foot, stepping back.

“Get up.” He ordered in a tone that left no room for argument. Jack refused to comply, clinging the little bit of rebellion he had left. He couldn’t… shouldn’t give Pitch the satisfaction of listening. The silence was deafening and Jack could feel Pitchs anger radiating from his shadowy core. A swift kick landed with his face, the frost spirit shouting out and curling in on himself. “I said GET UP.” Pitch shouted. Jack closed his eyes and tensed, waiting for another kick and slap.

Instead he got shadows, slithering around his body and tickling him with their hot touches.The shadows turned to hot claws, raking into his back and sides. He screamed, feeling more blood pour from his body and sobbing at the pain.

“One. Last. Time.” Pitch said in an icy tone. Jack was shaking, from the pain, from fear, as he tried to pull himself up. He managed, even without the use of his hands, to kneel. His back was slumped over as he panted, wishing the pain away. “Good boy.” Pitch praised. “Now open up.”

Jack lifted his head, catching Pitch as his shadow pants melted away, revealing a half hard member. The Guardian looked up in disbelief, feeling his stomach writhe. Pitch gave him a raised brow, waiting and expectant.

“No.” Jack half yelled, finding his voice again. Pitch grabbed him with one hand, squeezing his cheeks to force his mouth open. Jack tried to pull away, and another hand grabbed his hair, dull nails digging into his scalp painfully. He winced, mouth opening slightly and Pitch seizing the opportunity. The frost spirit gagged at first, unable to breath through his broken nose or his mouth.

“Don’t even think of biting,” Pitch growled, shadows rising up from beneath Jack again and encasing his lower half in darkness. The shadows were inexplicably hot against his perma-cold body, trailing him with sharp points, like claws. He shook, closing his eyes and sobbing past the erection in his mouth. “Suck.”

Jack closed his lips around Pitch’s member, wrinkling his nose at the salty taste. Pitch sighed, kneeding Jacks skull as he began to pull out and thrust his hips back in, Jack wrapping his tongue around it. He felt disgusting, dirty, tears rolling down his face as he obeyed. But Pitch’s nails were at his scalp, and the shadows just waiting for him to disobey, waiting to rend his flesh again… He refused to open his eyes as he sucked, Pitch grunting and thrusting faster, Jack struggling to find breath.

A few moments more felt like an eternity, before Pitch shoved in and tensed, releasing into Jacks mouth. The spirit gagged, clenching his bound fists and shaking, eager to spit it out. But as Pitch pulled himself out, Jack found his hand pressing against his mouth, refusing to allow him that luxury.

“Swallow,” Pitch growled threateningly. Jack blinked, more tears streaking down his face as he forced the liquid down. Fully downed, he panted, Pitch letting go of his head. Jack was shaking as he withheld the sobs, feeling completely violated and hurt. Pitch’s hand slid under Jacks chin, a strangely gentle action. His pants had reappeared, the shadows around Jacks torso slithering back into the darkness. Jack tried to meet Pitch’s eye, waiting for his rebellious spirit to kick in, yet he couldn’t, blue eyes sliding away from the golden ones. Pitch laughed behind closed lips, dropping his head and turning out.

Jack felt a collar of shadow meld around his neck, chaining him to the wall again. The Guardian- no… He didn’t think he would ever use that title again. His powers were all but gone, Pitch surely having disposed of the pieces… and even if the others had found him… He wasn’t a Guardian anymore. But he was tired again, wishing that he could sleep. But there was no way sleep would come to him in any peaceful manner.

He slumped against the wall, hands bound, naked, and bleeding. Jack was losing hope fast…


	3. Chapter 3

Jack sat in the dreadful, dark silence again, chunks of time flying by. He was unwilling to let himself sleep, but if another Nightmare visited, he would probably be pulled into a bad dream. He shivered at the thought, sniffling at the dried blood and snot in his nose. Eyes flickered around the dungeon, looking for anything to help get him out. His bindings were solid shadow, however, and he couldn’t manage to break that. 

Fearlings writhed in the corners again, Jack recoiling at the movement in his peripheral vision. They crept slowly, watching as if for a reaction. 

“Go away, just go away!” Jack shouted at them. They recoiled, tilting their frowned faces in curiosity. “Just let me go…” He groaned, pulling away from the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. “Just let me go, just let me go, just let me go,” He chanted in pained whispers.

“Oh, but I couldn’t do that, Jack,” Came an echoed voice. Jacks head snapped up, looking around and finding himself sitting in a stretched pool of shadows. He began to shake. Pitch was everywhere, could come out of anywhere.

Jack felt lips brush against the back of his neck and he flinched, trying to pull away. The chain was at its ends though, keeping him in place.

“No running, Jack,” The shade chided. The fearlings watched in the corners, Jack squeezing his eyes shut. He felt his heart hammer in his throat. Hadn’t Pitch had enough from earlier? How much time had even passed since then? Hours? A day? Jack couldn’t tell…

“Please, stop,” Jack begged, feeling Pitch’s arms reaching out from the shadows. Pitch chuckled, pressing more heated kisses against the back of his neck. Hands slithered across his chest, dragging nails across his exposed skin and causing him to shiver. He didn’t want this, itching to pull away.

“Hmmm, no,” Pitch mused, beginning to kiss him with open mouth. He bit and sucked, Jack squirming beneath his hot mouth. Sharp teeth cut into his skin as he bit harder, Jack yelping and throwing himself back. But of course, Pitch was shadow, so he only succeeded in slamming his head against the wall and reopening the closed claw marks on his back. And Pitch was still there.

“Why are you doing this?” Jack moaned, Pitchs mouth moving to another section of exposed flesh and sucking down hard again. He was leaving bruises all along his neck, occasionally snapping down with a taste for blood.

“I’m going to break you, Jack Frost,” Pitch purred, licking blood off a bleeding bite mark.

His hands, shadow in form, slid down Jacks chest, teasing at the dip in his hips. Jack felt his cock twitch, against what his mind was screaming. The hands halted, before slowly making their way south.

“Carnal desires are ones not so easily hidden,” Pitch mused, stroking Jacks member gently. 

Jack swallowed hard, curling his toes and trying to squeeze his legs shut. More shadows rose in the form of clawed hands, pulling apart Jacks legs. He fought against them, Pitch biting down hard on his right shoulder and shocking him. His legs were pried open, Pitch’s shadow hands taking on a more solid form and trailing a single nail down his cock. Jack gasped at the odd sensation, slight pain mingling with heat. But it was hardly pleasant.

He felt sick, fighting against the desire to be touched by Pitch while the Nightmare king continued to lick and kiss his neck. The fearlings were still watching, Jack wishing they would go away instead of making his embarrassment public. 

“So desperate for touch, aren’t you?” Pitch mused with a teasing edge to his voice. “Hundreds of years of loneliness could do that to a person.”

“Stop,” Jack whined, Pitch wrapping his hand around his half hard member and pumping it at a teasingly slow rate. He felt his breath come in shudders, trying to ignore the pleasurable feelings. This was sick. All wrong. And he was terrible for letting it happen. He could have avoided all of this. If only he had listened to Pitch, if only he had fought harder.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut against the intrusive thoughts. He knew they weren’t his own, but he didn’t want to fight them. It was easier to let them be, and his brain was already muddled with a thousand emotions all fighting for a place. Pitch began to stroke harder, stopping only to rub Jacks head and spread the leaking precum down his erection. He already felt close, the warmness of Pitch’s hand, the slickness of his own precum.

‘Its easier to let it be,’ a voice whispered into his ear. ‘just stop fighting...’

“N-nngh...no,” Jack gasped, writhing against the shadows. He could feel Pitchs breath on the back of his sore and bitten neck. 

“No.. st-stop.” 

“What was that, Jack?”

“Stop!” The boy gasped, feeling so close, like he might just explode at any moment--

But that was when Pitch did stop, dropping him suddenly and recoiling back into the shadows. Jacks eyes snapped open, his arousal aching against the sudden chill, the loss of the heat Pitch brought. He found himself entirely alone again, not even the fearlings remaining. He could feel his balls hurting, building up with unreleased pressure. Jack sobbed, knowing that Pitch was still in the room and watching from the shadows. He had to finish but he didn’t want to give Pitch the satisfaction of caving.

He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, frustrated at his endless trembling. Jack bit his lower lip, hoping that the Guardians were looking for him...


End file.
